


Thursdays Are For Escapees

by whitebloodcellfightinglikehell



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-09
Updated: 2011-07-09
Packaged: 2017-10-21 04:53:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/221143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whitebloodcellfightinglikehell/pseuds/whitebloodcellfightinglikehell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is the sequel to Writhing Wednesday!</p>
    </blockquote>





	Thursdays Are For Escapees

**Author's Note:**

> This is the sequel to Writhing Wednesday!

_Run._

 _Run._

 _Run._

The words flashed through his head with this bright light behind them, an eerie glow. Weeks of running, he did. He’d stop to kill the occasional squirrel for lunch, to take care of bowel movements, to survive, but other than that? He didn’t stop for anything.

 

Richmond wasn’t very far away from where he was at the time. He didn’t know the time or the day of the week, or even the month anymore. But when he finally saw something other than green around him, he stopped. There were less trees, a little cabin with smoke escaping out of the chimney. He pulled the tattered white coat around him and took a deep breath, knocking on the door. A few moments later the warm gaze of a sweet, wrinkly face greeted him. The woman at the door frowned at him.

“What’s happened to you, dear?”

“I…I got lost in the woods, trying to find a friend of mine. Have you seen him?”

“No, honey, I haven’t but just…just come inside, oh, you look so hungry.”

“I am. Would you mind if I took a bath?”

“No, sweetie, I wouldn’t mind at all.” She gave him a warm smile and pulled him into the house, where he saw an old, bearded man eating an apple and smiling at him.

“Hello, what’s your name?”

“I’m Ryan,” he answered, gulping. “I won’t be here long, I promise.”

The man hid behind his newspaper and nodded. “I know, sonny.”

Ryan nodded and sat down, looking awkwardly at the table.

The lady came over and took his hand to shake.

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Ophelia, and this is my husband, Butch.”

Ryan smiled at them and nodded. “Nice to meet you, too,” he murmured, looking down. Ophelia went to the pot and threw some stuff in, stirring it up and a few minutes later, serving it. It was a beef stew with carrots and potatoes, and Ryan ate it, giving his thanks and going into the bathroom—a pot and a tin tub, so he didn’t know exactly what to do. Ophelia came in and gave him warm bath water and soap, and he took care of that. As he sat in that bath and it started getting cold, he replayed the scene of Brendon kissing him over and over and over again in his head. It was warm to him, no matter the rain that had been plopping off of them or the shivers that were radiating through their bodies. He couldn’t stop thinking about it, wanting it again. He’d just have to help him. Yes, help him escape. Returning the favor, not because he had to, but he wanted to. He’d have Brendon back. And they’d finally get to live together in that place away from civilization, like they’d been talking about a month ago, in that treatment room, the second time when he was afraid that his luck had run out, but it hadn’t, it really hadn’t. Every time that he thought his luck was running dry, it wasn’t.

A knock on the door brought him back to real life.

"Sonny? Dinner's ready, and I've got the guest room all nice and made up for you!"

He sighed and nodded. Although he hadn't realized it, he'd been in that tub for over 3 hours.

Thinking about Brendon.

 

 

***

 

Ophelia had set out some nice clothes for him and given him nice bed sheets, and he'd stared at the bed for a while before getting in it. He didn't feel safe here. He didn't feel safe anywhere. That one fear of getting caught and taken back to that institution was unsettling and wouldn't go away. He laid his head down and looked at the ceiling for quite a long time, thinking about the different patterns in the wood of the logs. He'd never noticed how they seemed to tell stories. Some of the grooves in the wood made him think of dragons, from stories of old. He smiled, remembering them fondly. Wizards, dragons, princesses being rescued by their princes, and he kept thinking about it. The more he thought, the fonder he became.

 

He'd been rescued by his own prince, hadn't he? He was going to save his prince, too. Somehow, in some way.

 

 

***

 

He'd fallen asleep a while later, after tossing and turning. The door creaked open, and awoke him, however. Butch was smiling warmly at him. He sat down on the wood stool and patted the boy's shoulder.

"You're very lucky to be alive, eh?"

Ryan smiled just a tad. "Yeah, I guess I am."

Butch nodded. "Come with me, lad, I want to show you something."

 

They walked out to the forest, and Ryan was told to walk in front of him. A lot of clicking was going on behind him, and it was a bit scary, but he was too tired to pay attention.

"Turn around, boy."

He did as he was told, just to have a rifle pointed at him.

"I want to see the look in your eyes when I shoot you."

Ryan's eyes widened and he luckily was able to shift when the old man pulled the trigger, so the bullet hit his shoulder. Nothing to kill him. The old man cursed and suddenly, Ryan found himself running again. But oh no, he wasn't going to go anywhere near the institution. He started running through the thick brush, briers grabbing ahold of his bullet wound. Tearing the skin further, making him cry out. Blood had been gushing but he hadn't noticed it until the red goo started spilling out from inbetween his fingers. His whole shoulder was throbbing, but all he could do was just cry silently. If he made a noise, Butch would catch up to him, and whatever luck he had left would run out.

 

 

***

 

He ran for as long as he could, until his body was barely able to function from the blood loss. He started shakily digging around for the bullet so he could remove it, and when he pulled it out, the wound started bleeding more. And that was the last thing he remembered before waking up on a street curb with his wound all fixed up.

 

It was the main city of Richmond, with nice cars and such driving around, everyone with their normal lives. He didn't know where exactly he was, or who had fixed his wound, but he wasn't going to look around for anyone. He'd just consider himself even luckier than before.

 

And now he just needed to get home.

 

Then he remembered: he has no home.

His parents would send him back to the institution. He'd have to rough it out on his own. Well, okay. He’d kinda done that before—when Brendon wasn’t with him, he’d be alone in that cell, and he wasn’t always lucky enough to get Brendon when it was mealtime.  But this time, it was different. He needed a job. Money. Clothes. A house. Far away from here.

But he’d start with the job.

 

***

 

He’d gotten up and started searching the neighborhoods for newspapers, and when he got one, he looked in the job ads. He didn’t find anything he had the experience for, though. Fuck the new life. He’d save Brendon first. And he’d know what to do.

 

 

***

 

First he needed to know how Brendon was doing.

He grabbed that jacket. That white coat that held so many precious memories. And he threw it at the door of that institution of bad memories, and he snuck around the back. When a few of the doctors came outside, they noticed it. It seemed as if luck was on his side again—the doctors started talking about him.

“I wonder where this came from…?” one of them looked around, as if they were expecting something eerie.

The other one chuckled, a bitter taste to it. “Yeah, his ghost probably dropped it off.”

Ghost.

 _That only means one thing, the fuckers must have killed him. With their selfish hands. Their cruel thoughts. Their lack of caring. Why couldn’t it have been me?_

 

 

Ryan’s tears spilled and they’d be the last he ever shed.

 

***

 

He had run back to the forest and used a metal shard that he’d found in the city to carve a sharp shard of wood. A huge one, which he had placed in his chest without fucking hesitation.

 _You’re gone, you’re never coming back, and I’m joining you._

And he whispered his last words: “I love you.”

 

 

He wasn’t in his body anymore. In fact, he was standing over it. He was transparent, this world wasn’t his anymore. It never would be, ever, ever again. Because he no longer existed.

Ryan Ross no longer existed.

Everything in this world was bleak and blue-tinted. And he was all alone, he thought, anyways. But something was tugging at him, dragging him along. To the institution, he didn’t want to be there. Not even when he was a spirit. But when he was pulled into the walls, into that same treatment room from before, he ended up in someone’s arms so quickly he would have felt dizzy if he were still alive. And when he heard a voice, it was so echo-y and surreal that it startled him.

“I’ve missed you so much, I'm glad I guided you all this way.”

His ears must have been fooling him, really. That voice was so warm with familiarity and fondness. It brought tears to his eyes. But they evaporated on the spot.

“Brendon?”

“Yes.”

“Bren, I missed you so much, I-“

But he was cut off with those lips that he had missed forever ago. Yes, his life seemed like forever ago. The happiness he was feeling now was worth the agony he’d gone through, because he was with Brendon now. And they could fulfill their fantasies to be away from civilization, because they weren’t even human anymore. They’d have the world to themselves, to travel, and never have to deal with people. They’d be with each other in every waking moment, and never have to sleep.

But no, all they really wanted to do was just stay there, and never let go. And that’s exactly what they did.


End file.
